Monday, 4 February 2008
But let’s move onto the game anyway, because it is worth playing! However, it says much about it that after 80 hours of playing it I feel barely qualified to comment. I’ve gained about 840 of its 1000 achievement points and yet, without mastering the sniper rifle, using the full range of biotic attacks, or partnering up for the game with Liara the lovely Asari or Wrex the unlovely Krogan, I feel that there’s a lot left for me to do.
Reactions to the game (leaving aside the hilarious “porn simulator” nonsense brewed up by idiotic American conservatives) have tended to follow a certain pattern. Initially most people tend to be underwhelmed – you can see that in Edge magazine’s disappointed seven out of ten review in issue 183, in reactions from gamers on Digital Spy, and in the negative review from distinguished Xbox writer Dean Takahashi. I felt the same way.
At first to me the fighting felt uncontrolled, the weapons unbalanced, the graphics a bit too choppy. I don’t like to play stategy games that don’t give you time to make decisions – I’ll always prefer turn-based to real-time strategy games. I didn’t feel like I was ever in control of events during Mass Effect’s combat.
Then, a mission or two into the game, I realised that while selecting my weapons and powers the game was paused, and I could move the cursor around with the joystick to pick out different targets for my attacks, and the attacks of my team. Suddenly, from being a bunch of buffoons chasing robots round and round crates, we became a crack tactical squad, knocking enemies flying with our telekinetic powers, lifting them into the air, blowing up their guns, and knocking them down with our shotguns. From that moment the game got better and better. There’s a sheer glee to unleashing one powerful attack after another (balanced with the tension of anticipating the equally powerful attacks of your enemies) that makes Mass Effect a wonderful and addictive game to play.
That pretty much seems to have happened to everyone. In the latest issue of Edge the game is described as “the absolute best flawed game of the year”. A poster on Digital Spy who started a thread by the name of “Mass Effect – Yawn-o-Rama” in December returned in January to say he now loved it. And Dean Takahashi posted a follow-up review explaining how wrong he had got it the first time around.
One reason for such changing views is the process I mentioned above – simply getting to grips with the mechanics of the game. Another reason is that the game gets more and more enjoyable the stronger your powers get.
This adds immensely to the game’s replayability. If you choose, you can start a new game with the character and equipment with which you ended the previous one. So if you built up the appropriate abilities in the previous game, you can start smashing robots into walls like marbles from your very first encounter with them. Hence my second play-through was when I began to really love the game.
It’s a fairly short game, by RPG standards, which at first I thought was a bad thing. My first play-through, checking out every anomaly, scanning every planet, chasing down every mission, only took about thirty hours; and I tend to play games quite slowly. My second, a sprint through the main missions on a higher skill level, skipping through the conversations I’d already heard, took just twelve hours.
At that point, what had seemed a failing in the game, became a plus point: it’s a game that’s designed to be replayed, to be played through and through as different characters, with different powers, and in different ways.
It’s hard to say why I think that’s a good thing, because I don’t like watching movies I’ve seen before, and I don’t like reading books I’ve already read. So let me give you an example of a game that takes a different approach: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. I love the Elder Scrolls series of games, and I’ve put over a hundred hours into this one, but if there’s one thing I’m not massively keen on, as a former player of traditional paper and pencils role-playing games, it is that you can do absolutely everything the game has to offer in a single play-through. You can play as a warrior, rise to the top of the fighter’s guild, and then join the mage’s guild too and rise to the top of that, often bludgeoning your way through the tasks assigned because your magic won’t be up to it. That’s great fun, of course, such free-spiritedness is integral to the game’s design, but it bothers me because with every additional career ladder you scale in Oblivion, the less sense you have of yourself playing a role, the more you’re just playing a game. (Of course, that was partly my fault for choosing to play Oblivion that way: I could easily have started a new magic-based character to play the mages guild missions.)
The converse is true of Mass Effect. If you’re playing as a soldier, you don’t get telekinetic powers of your own. You have to choose team-mates whose abilities will complement your own. Next time around, you could have your own telekinetic powers, or you could specialise in technical attacks, or you could continue to build the talents of your existing character. The length of the game means that it isn’t a chore to start over, but rather something to relish. It’s more akin to starting a new game of Civilization IV than it is to restarting a Final Fantasy game.
All in all, Mass Effect has been a fitting end to three or four of the best months of gaming I can ever remember: Halo 3, Bioshock, The Orange Box and Mass Effect, not to mention a couple of brief dalliances with Pixeljunk Monsters and Pro Evolution Soccer 6. The last time I enjoyed gaming so thoroughly and unreservedly for such a long period was probably back in the 1980s, after my Dad brought home a ZX Spectrum and two C90s full of copied games.
Originally published in Theaker's Quarterly Fiction #21.
Mass Effect, Bioware (dev.). US, Xbox 360.
Theaker's House of Horror!
Issue 21! It seems funny to think now that being 21 used to be a big deal in Britain. When I was a youngster, everyone talked about their 21st birthday as the big one, the one for which a massive party would be planned. Now it seems to be barely worthy of note. It’s easy to see why – laws have changed, and reaching 21 is no longer the last barrier to adulthood. You can do mostly anything at 18 nowadays, and a good few things at 16 besides. In the US, it’s quite different – you still have to be 21 to drink, which always seems funny to us, as university studients played by actors in their thirties perpetually struggle to buy beer in the movies, even if it probably makes sense in a country in which so many teenagers drive.
I didn’t expect to get all political in this editorial, but while we’re here let me expound one of the ridiculous ideas I once came up with: the minimum legal age for smoking should go up by one year, every year. That done, everyone who can legally smoke now could continue up until their doubtlessly painful demises, while those who can’t legally smoke now would never be able to start. Okay, so like most of my ideas maybe it's a bit impractical!
My other, more practical, idea with regard to smoking is this: if someone stands near you at a bus stop, or sits on a bench beside you, and starts to smoke, you should feel free to trump as much as you like. This should be a general policy, endorsed by government, perhaps even given its own advertising campaign. I think it’s only fair that if your air is being polluted that you should respond in turn. The only foreseeable problem with this is the risk of blowing yourself up once your post-digestive fumes make contact with the cigarette’s lit end.
Where on Earth am I going with this editorial? That’s the problem with setting aside space for one of these things – you get to the end of the production process and there the space is, waiting to be filled. In an issue like TQF#19, that isn’t a problem, because that one had lots of different stories, and so I only had to write a little bit about each of them to fill the space up.
This time, I’ve only got two stories to talk about, and so there I go, wandering into areas that would be embarrassing if I talked about them in the pub, let alone in the pages of an august and serious journal like the one in your hands (or on your screen, if you are reading this online). And now, what’s worse, I realise I’ve used up almost all the space available without even getting onto the stories! Never mind, this may be the worst editorial of all time, but this issue contents two superb stories that more than make up for it! So, onward you go, to read the thrilling horrors!
First there’s "The Exile From Naktah", by Wayne Summers, by whom we previously published "The Walled Garden" in the aforementioned TQF#19. When reading this story I imagined it as being filmed by Hammer.
Then there’s "The Hatchling: Ante-Natal Anxiety" by my pal John Greenwood, following on from "Post-Natal Paranoia" in TQF#20. I like to think of this as Tintin scripted by Lovecraft and filmed by Guillermo del Toro. I hope you enjoy them both.
By the way, sorry for the cover painting! It may be rubbish, but I had fun painting it! – SWT
Theaker’s House of Horror!
The Exile From Naktah
Lily * Klune
The Hatchling: Ante-Natal Anxiety
The Ancient Mariner * Escaping Naseby * Reliving the Past * The Life of Scherlasky * Visiting Family * Old Haunts * Emergence * A Homing Instinct
The Quarterly Review
Mass Effect * Back to You
Helen and Her Magic Cat